


Best Dollar I Ever Spent

by blindgumby (walkydeads)



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: An inordinate amount of def leppard references, Lapdance, M/M, Season One Compliant, Strip Tease, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 05:51:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2180373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkydeads/pseuds/blindgumby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the request sent in by anemic_cinema, 'strip tease that turns into a lapdance'. Pretty much what it says on the tin, but first season compliant with a touch of emotional backstory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Dollar I Ever Spent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anemic_cinema](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemic_cinema/gifts).



Where Daryl got a cassette stereo was beyond Glenn in the first place. Batteries were scarce and no one really bothered with radios anymore, now that even the emergency broadcasts had turned to static. Glenn was almost too young to remember cassettes anyways; after the age of five or so they were completely transitioned out for CDs. But he recognized the familiar click and whir as he passed Daryl's tent one night. Static giving way to some guitar. He knew what it was then, but he figured everyone was allowed something from the world the way it was before. Maybe especially Daryl, now that his brother was gone. So he didn't say anything. Didn't pry. It was almost impossible to hear it unless you were right outside his tent anyway, so he didn't figure it was doing any harm.

The next day, they buried their dead. Or at least they were trying to. The walkers were unknown to them, impossible and dangerous to properly memorialized, so they were to be put in a pile and burned. The brains of the dead were to all be destroyed before they were moved to their assigned plots. Andrea was mourning too thoroughly to be pulled away from her sister and Jim ended up having been bit in the chaos. Glenn thought it couldn't get worse.

In the midst of all this, Morales and Daryl started moving the bodies of the dead towards the pyre. He stopped them. Screamed at them before he could even process what he was doing. Daryl had actually stopped. Hadn't argued. Taken his anger our on the side of the RV instead of Glenn's face, which Glenn appreciated. It also made him feel guilty and confused, though. Had it been anyone else, he knew Daryl would have no qualms with getting in their face and telling them where they could shove their orders.

It occurred to him - for probably the first time - that Daryl loved Merle more than anybody else on this earth, and he didn't even have a body to bury and say goodbye to. He had no idea what happened to his brother, and that had to be a million times more troubling than just laying him to rest. The empathy Glenn felt for him hurt, to the point he was convicted to apologize.

Rick had suggested everyone go to bed as soon as the sun set so they could head for the CDC at first light. Dale took first watch and Glenn lingered around the dying embers of the fire, wishing everyone a good rest as they passed. Everyone except Daryl. He figured that was reason enough to visit him, as far as outward appearances were concerned. It was unlike him to visit with the other members of the group and he didn't want to raise unnecessary questions with them because they barely trusted Daryl as it was, and he didn't want to get lumped in with that.

He made to go to his own tent when he passed Daryl's, the flap unzipped and light pouring out from an electric lantern. He heard the cassette player again, the familiar tinny sound of guitars and low voices pouring from a small speaker. It made him hesitate, but the light kept him there. There must have been a reason he left his tent open, after all.

"Daryl...?" he called softly.

"Hm," was the non-committal half-reply.

"Can I... can I come in?" Glenn cursed his own nervousness but supposed it worked, as Daryl pulled the tent flap up enough for him to squeeze through and grunted again, nodding his head as if to beckon him in further.

This was - obviously - the first time Glenn had bothered to even casually look into the tent the Dixons shared. The music - The Ramones, Glenn guessed - continued to play as he spared their humble makeshift home a once over - It was more orderly than he'd assumed. There was a sleeping bag on either end and liquor bottles lined up in an orderly fashion between them. Daryl's side had a lantern, the cassette player and a few books, his bag holding his neatly folded clothes at the foot of his bedding. Merle's clothing was still scattered along his side of things, his bags full to bursting as it was.

"Wasn't sure if I should bring his stuff," Daryl said suddenly, quietly.

"Oh," Glenn paused, unsure of how to proceed. "I guess it depends on whether you have the room or not. You've got a pretty impressive open bar there, but probably won't have much use for it after we get to the CDC."

"Who said I was goin' to the CDC?" Daryl grimaced, turning away from him to continue to pack, his shoulders tense. "Just figured since all ya'll was takin' off I might as well. Being around a pile of crispy corpses and a buncha buried dead ones ain't for me any damn way."

"About that," wringing his hands, Glenn knelt. It was instinctive to do this when he was sincere in his apology, part of his heritage that had stuck even as his parents raised him in America. But it didn't feel quite as unnatural as it had in other circumstances, mostly because Daryl was already on the ground, rummaging around his sleeping bag.  
Daryl looked up and raised an eyebrow before returning to what he was doing, and Glenn took it as permission to continue.

"I'm really sorry I yelled at you earlier," He sighed, "You saved me earlier. You tried really hard to save me even before the vatos had me. The one you shot punched me because I couldn't stop laughing at him. I mean, he apologized later, but still. What I'm saying, I guess, is that I didn't mean to get so torn up about it. It really shouldn't make a difference what we do with our dead, but. They were with us. We bury our dead and give them that ceremony because they matter to us. I know there's probably gonna come a time where we have to give that up. But I just... right at that moment, I wasn't ready to."

After a few awkward seconds of silence, Daryl zipped up his bag and sat on top of his sleeping bag, just looking at the younger for an uncomfortably long while. Eventually he shrugged, "It's fine. I get what you're sayin' I just... guess I already accepted that buryin' the dead is something we don't have time to do anymore. Maybe I shouldn'ta let go just yet. You want some Devil's Cut?"

Glenn wasn't quite sure what Devil's Cut was, but he nodded, too nervous about what Daryl might think of him. Unsurprisingly, Daryl went for one of the liquor bottles along the far edge of the tent and unscrewed the top. He patted a section of the sleeping bag next to him and Glenn crawled over, leaving a respectable amount of space. Daryl passed him the bottle and he sniffed it before wincing, "What the hell is this?"

Daryl chuckled, "Bourbon. Go easy on it, now. Just a lil sip."

Heeding his advice, Glenn tipped the bottle back and swallowed just a small gulp. It immediately set his throat on fire and turned his cheeks red, and he passed the bottle back before falling into a coughing fit. Daryl patted him on the back sympathetically.

"Told you," Daryl said, just a bit of smugness and laughter creeping into his voice.

They let the bottle pass between them a few more times in amicable silence, drinking about two fingers of it down before Glenn spoke again. "So what're you gonna do?" he asked as he slipped the bottle out of Daryl's grip, "I mean, if you don't go to the CDC. Is there any way to be sure Merle took our truck? And is there any way to track him if he did?"

As he returned the bottle, Daryl's shoulders slumped. "No. Not really."

"Oh."

Another eighth of the bottle was gone before they spoke again. By then, Glenn's vision was blurring and Daryl's sleeping bag was starting to look real damn inviting.

"I mean, I'll probably end up comin' with ya'll," Daryl said, his accent thickening with his state of inebriation, "Jus' didn't wanna come if ya'll were mad at me ya know?"

"Why would we be mad at you?" Glenn asked, leaning into him a little in what he hopped was a comforting manner.

"Not all ya'll, jus'... you. Cause a what you said today."

Glenn frowned, "But I apologized."

Daryl grinned, "I know. No one's ever really come to me and said sorry like that before either. Really. So I figure I might's well stay with ya'll. Safes' bet. If Merle's still mad about wha' happened on th' roof, he'll be lookin' for revenge. He'll be able t' track us. An' then I can jus' straighten things out real smooth. See?"

"I guess."

Just then the cassette player clicked, signalling the end of the tape. Daryl clicked his tongue disapprovingly and dove across his sleeping bag to grab it. He took the cassette out and crawled across the tent to Merle's side to - presumably - fish for another. "What'cha in the mood for? Merle had a lil bit a everything. Even rap. Wouldn'ta thought it though right?"

Glenn repressed the growing urge to say he was in the mood for Daryl. Drinking so much around him had probably been a mistake actually. He was the only half-attractive guy here that wasn't somehow entangled with a woman, and Glenn had previously considered him 'off the menu' because of his overbearing and frankly dickish brother... but now. It definitely didn't help that Daryl was being so welcoming and almost sweet. And that facing so much death at once had a way of making you want to be close to someone.

Lost in thought, he forgot to answer. Daryl seemed to find something that suited his tastes, however, and put it in the cassette player before hitting play and leaving it on Merle's sleeping bag, crawling back over to his guest.

It only took Glenn a few seconds to recognize the uncomfortably familiar chords of a Def Leppard song. "Armageddon it? Really?"

"Heh, guess 's a lil ironic, huh?" Daryl snorted, sitting even closer to Glenn as he plopped back down next to him, their shoulders and thighs practically plastered together, "I know, I know. It's real white trash a me to like a band like this, but... I dunno. Maybe some stereotypes exist for a reason."

Glenn glared at him for all of five seconds for dissolving into laughter, "You know, you really shouldn't say shit like that around people who aren't white. You're gonna fool around and get yourself shot."

"You sayin' ya gon' shoot me, lil man?"

"If only I had a gun on me," Glenn said dryly, and they stared at each other for a few seconds before dissolving into laughter, Daryl finding him so hilarious that he had to bury his face in Glenn's neck to muffle his snorts.

They eventually caught their breath enough to hear Dale trading out the watch with Shane, meaning they'd been in each others company for at least the past two hours. Strangely enough, Glenn felt comfortable with that, and didn't feel the slightest urge to leave. And with Daryl's face still pressed into his neck, he was pretty sure Daryl didn't want him to go either.

The first familiar chords to 'Pour Some Sugar on Me' came through the cassette player, and Daryl made a low noise of appreciation, pulling himself back upright. Glenn tried not to pout at the loss of contact.

"This song," Daryl said, shaking his head incredulously, "Me n Merle used to go to this club called the Trophy Club, and there was this one dancer there... maybe forty-somethin', wrinkly and way too be old to be dancin', you know? She used t' dance t' this song. An' only this song. We halfway went jus' for the entertainment that was. Merle had all kindsa jokes about her. I tended to keep my opinion ta myself, but he'd say all kindsa funny shit, like how she hadn't changed her track a choice since she first started her career, how I'd look better up there doin' that dance..."

"Would you?" Glenn chuckled.

"Without a doubt," Daryl said, completely serious, "I mean, she was jus' downright scary. We kinda figured the club had a retirement plan she was goin' for or somethin' cause..."  
"Prove it," Glenn said, suddenly equally serious. Or at least as close to serious as he could manage in his current state.

"Prove what?"

"That you could do her dance better," Glenn prodded, his heart pounding. He hoped his mouth would just glue itself shut on its own or that Daryl would laugh it off. Anything but throwing him out for making a weird remark like that when they were just starting to get along...

Much to his surprise, though, Daryl took the challenge. He stood and kicked off his boots and bent over to grab the cassette player and rewind it to the beginning of the track. Glenn tried not to openly gawk at his ass.

When Daryl turned around, he was blushing.

"Alright now, I ain't got no pole, so you're jus' gon' have to imagine that, but I seen her do that dance so much I know exactly what all to do, so."

He hit play with his socked toe and the intro played again.

The first chords had him swaying awkwardly, trying to get himself into rhythm. Once he was there, though, Glenn couldn't do much else but stare. 

Daryl dragged a hand up his own thigh and spread his legs a bit, bending them at the knee as he moved to the beat, slowly going lower and lower until he was crouched, holding his knees as he continued to gyrate, moving back up. His eyes were clenched shut tight, lips turned up in a self-deprecating smile. 

Slowly, he worked at unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it further down until it hung from only one shoulder, then fell into the welcoming pile on Merle's side of the tent. His nipples were hard and there were goosebumps on his skin, and Glenn felt bad for him for a second until he realized that it wasn't even cold and that Daryl was still smiling.

He smiled and laughed even as he turned to show his ass, bending all the way over expertly, the tips of his fingers touching the ground as he continued to move. Glenn crossed his legs as he watched, sticking his sweaty hands into his pockets to hide his nervousness as well as his growing erection.

His fingers brushed against paper. A dollar bill, he remembered vaguely. All he had left to his name when this giant shit storm had kicked up. Slowly, a smile spread across his face as he got a terrible, awful idea.

Daryl continued to dance a couple feet in front of Glenn, his movements awkward, jerky and exaggerated, but hot nonetheless. As he turned back around, Glenn said his name, lowly. He opened his eyes still laughing, maybe hoping Glenn would tell him to stop so he could stop feeling so self conscious.

Instead, he found Glenn waving a one dollar bill at him. And well, that was probably the most indirect invitation Glenn had ever given a man, but conveniently (or perhaps inconveniently, the doubtful voice in Glenn's head supplied) money didn't mean anything anymore, so Daryl had to take it for exactly what it was. 

When he dropped to his knees and started to undo his jeans before crawling over to him, Glenn was only a little taken aback.

The closer Daryl got, the more Glenn withdrew the dollar bill. Before long, it was quite literally dangling over his head. Daryl at least didn't seem to have any qualms about climbing into Glenn's lap to reach it, sliding his thighs over Glenn's as he pressed his hand against one of Glenn's shoulders for leverage as he reached his other arm out, trying to grasp the dollar just out of his reach.

Glenn let go of it, letting it flutter almost calmly down, landing silently on the sleeping bag. They both looked down at it for a moment, Glenn realizing that, had they been in normal circumstances, that would have been a very mean-spirited thing for him to do. But now... it was kind of liberating.

Daryl's hand had wrapped around the hand Glenn had been holding the dollar with, laced his fingers with his and brought it down from floating uselessly in midair. Glenn's elbow folded his arm in against his body compliantly as Daryl fanned the younger's fingers out again, placing them against his heart.

He could feel the thrumming of Daryl's heart. His short, shallow breaths, the goosebumps that made his skin feel like braille. The edge of his pinkie was against Daryl's very erect nipple, and when he realized this, his hand twitched, causing his pinkie to graze it very gently, and eliciting the sweetest, softest gasp he'd ever heard.

They took it as a mutual confirmation.

Daryl started moving his hips again, no longer in rhythm to the unfamiliar song now playing in the background, He kept his eyes on Glenn's as he moved closer, their chests gradually becoming flush with one another, their noses bumping. He carefully touched the brim of Glenn's baseball cap and Glenn gave a slight nod before Daryl removed it, tossing it to the other side of the tent. He ran both his hands through Glenn's hair, stopping at his jaw.

Glenn couldn't help but kiss him.

It escalated from there pretty quickly. The movement of Daryl's hips continued, but it was more determined and calculated now, each roll of his body eliciting a low groan from Glenn as his clothed cock met the insides of Daryl's clothed thighs. When Daryl's fingers brushed the skin just under Glenn's shirt, he wasted no time breaking the kiss and pulling the offending garment off, into the ever-increasing pile of dirty clothes.

How Glenn ended up on his back, he wasn't quite sure. But the landing was surprisingly soft. Daryl's hands had moved up his body, up and down his chest in comforting strokes. His lips attached themselves to Glenn's jaw, his throat, his clavicle. Glenn slid his hands under the waistband of Daryl's jeans, only a little disappointed he was wearing underwear. Daryl all but bucked against his hands, whimpering into his skin as Glenn slowly slid his jeans down.

"D'you have..." Glenn trailed off, distracted by the feeling of Daryl moving against him.

Daryl grunted in response, stretching his body over Glenn's to reach into his bag. His face being that close to Daryl's nipple, Glenn couldn't help but flick his tongue out, letting it trail over before bringing his mouth up, pressing a kiss to the hard nub. Daryl yelped and playfully shoved him bag, wagging a foil square and a small bottle in front of his face, grinning.

"Do you wanna? Or...?" Daryl seemed to be the one at a loss for words this time as Glenn pulled him back down and kissed him breathless.

"Can I fuck you?" Glenn asked, watching Daryl's face closely for any sort of objection. Daryl just grinned.

"Good," he said, pressing the condom and lube into Glenn's hand, "I honestly don't have much experience giving so you go ahead n take the reins this time."  
He sat back up a bit, just enough to wiggle out of his pants and underwear off and out of sight, his erection sitting proud and red, collecting a bit of precum at the tip. "I ain't done this in awhile," he admitted bashfully, "So I probably won't be at my best."

Glenn ran a hand over his thigh in a way he hoped was comforting, "It's alright. Don't worry. You're beautiful, by the way."

Daryl's lips twitched and he looked away, "Quit lyin' an' get on with it."

Tearing the foil packet apart with his teeth, Glenn shimmied into a sitting position again, undoing his pants just enough to free his dick with Daryl once more in his lap. He kissed Daryl's clavicle as he slid it on, quickly slicking himself and two of his fingers up. "I'm not," he said softly as his fingers traced the puckered skin around Daryl's entrance, causing him to shudder.

As he slid a finger in, he met Daryl's eyes, keeping their gazes locked as he moved his finger back out, building up a rhythm. The cassette player clicked to an abrupt stop and Daryl flinched, causing Glenn to halt his movements. Daryl's eyes met his again, and he ground down against Glenn's finger, grabbing onto his shoulders for leverage. "More," he commanded quietly.

He moaned at the intrusion of the second finger. Glenn expected him to find the sensation foreign, to clench up or even grind his teeth in discomfort, but he threw his head back and almost instantly started pushing himself back on the fingers, sighing with contentment as he did.

"You sure it's been a while?" Glenn asked, only a little amused.

"Yes," Daryl hissed, "Fuck, I missed it so much. Can you... I want... Ah, just. Fuck me?"

"You got it, boss," Glenn grinned, waiting for Daryl to look at him before he pulled his fingers out, wiping them on the dirt by Daryl's sleeping bag before leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. They were still sitting, but Glenn thought it'd probably make things easier on Daryl if he were the one setting the pace.

He lined his dick up and looked up at Daryl, waiting.

"You lil shit," Daryl hissed before sliding down, and woah, Glenn suddenly didn't know why he deprived himself of this feeling for even a second, because the slick, velvety feeling that was being inside Daryl was worth an incomprehensible number of things. If money still meant something he felt sure at that moment he'd buy Daryl whatever he wanted to pay him back in some small way for this privilege. A mansion, maybe. An entire nature reserve so he could hunt all he wanted. Something.

But then, after a few seconds of adjusting, Daryl moved, and Glenn's brain lost all capacity for wisecracks. It took all he had not to take Daryl's hips in his hands and set a faster pace, but apparently Daryl wanted that anyway, since he had no qualms about grabbing Glenn's hands and putting them where he wanted them to be. "Harder," he pleaded quietly, and Glenn wasted no time complying.

His knees came up, unbidden as he tried to gain more leverage. Daryl moaned on top of him, bouncing and jerking himself off with equal enthusiasm, his brow furrowing after just a few minutes. "I'm not..." he struggled, "I'm gonna..."

"Wait," Glenn grunted, lowering him gently and batting his hand away from his dick, "Please, I... fuck..."

If Daryl bouncing on his cock was a sight to behold, Daryl lying on the ground taking it was nothing short of a masterpiece. He writhed wildly, undulating under Glenn's grip as his hand returned to his own dick, stroking more idly than before. "Yes," he hissed, "Just like that, Glenn. So fucking good."

Glenn kissed him everywhere he could reach without sacrificing the pace he'd set, "You're so fucking tight," he whispered reverently, "God, Daryl."

He wasn't sure when Daryl had wrapped his arms around his neck but when he broke their kiss to whine, "Look at me," Glenn found he didn't have much leverage to deny the request. Even so, he didn't mind. Daryl's eyes, like this, were beautiful. He felt a little guilty having never noted their color before. Looking into them like this was a tipping point for him and he felt himself rapidly approaching release.

"Can I cum now?" Daryl asked, desperate as his hand picked up speed.

"Yes," Glenn hissed, "Yes."

And like that, Daryl tensed up, back arching and body going rigid as he spilled all over his hand and stomach, mouth open in a wordless groan. He ran his hand through the drops on his stomach, blending them into his skin. His eyes went half-lidded as he rode out his orgasm, lips curling into a content smile.

That alone would have been enough to pull Glenn over the edge in a matter of seconds, but Daryl reaching around and grabbing his ass and purring "Your turn" had him coming instantaneously, with toe-curling intensity and Daryl's name subconsciously pouring out of his mouth. His body curled defensively around Daryl's as he breathed against his neck in harsh pants.

"Jesus," he whispered appreciatively, kissing Daryl's throat.

"Yeah," Daryl agreed.

They stayed like that for a little while longer, neither of them particularly willing to part. Glenn groaned with frustration into Daryl's skin, pulling himself into a sitting position. "I have to go back to my tent," he lamented.

"Yeah?" Daryl said, trying to cover his own disappointment.

"I've hardly packed and everyone will be pissed if I keep us from getting on the move," He sighed.

"Oh yeah," Daryl grunted, sitting up himself and gesturing at Merle's side of the tent. "I should probably finish, too." 

They dressed in tense silence, Glenn feeling like he was walking away from something he desperately wanted to stay with for completely arbitrary reasons, and damn near sure   
he'd probably wounded Daryl's pride in the process.

He sighed as he made his way to the tent's entrance, pausing as Daryl cleared his throat. "You... you wanna pick the music next time?"

When Glenn looked his way, Daryl looked nervous so he walked back over to him and waited for him to meet his eyes before smiling in a way he hoped was reassuring, "Yeah," he chuckled, "I'm sure your brother's got a bunch of romantic fare to chose from."

"You'd be surprised," Daryl smiled back, "Even Merle got laid sometimes."

Glenn grimaced, but kissed Daryl on the cheek nonetheless, "Narrow it down to the 'best of' for me, would you?"

"You got it, boss."

The good thing about everyone retiring so early was that Glenn still had a little time to catch some sleep, even if he packed all his things and put them in Dale's RV. He was fairly sure of the reason Shane wouldn't meet his eyes then.

He confirmed it later, at the CDC.

Glenn was finishing a gulp of rather unsatisfying wine when he felt all eyes turn to him as Daryl said, "Not you, Glenn."

He laughed nervously, "What?"

Daryl reached across the table, pouring him another glass, "Keep drinkin', lil man. I wanna see how red your face can get."

"Pretty sure he already knows," Shane grumbled, though somehow Glenn was the only one who managed to hear over the laughter. 

He turned to Shane, raised his eyebrow, and raised his glass as if to say, 'fuck it'. He knew there was a Marvin Gaye cassette, a couple extra bottles of wine and a pack of condoms waiting for him back in his and Daryl’s room, and Shane was pathetically mooning over a married woman who didn’t care if he lived or died.

“Thank God the rooms are soundproof,” the former police officer scoffed, taking a huge gulp of his own wine, and Glenn made it a personal goal to prove that assumption wrong. A quick glance across the table told him Daryl agreed completely.


End file.
